Heart of the Storm (18 page)

A light came on in the store. She heard footsteps. Too exhausted to care, she didn’t bother to dry her eyes. The front door opened.

Ida. Her lantern glowed, illuminating her white nightgown. Her silver-gray hair hung in a long braid and she wore a shawl around her shoulders.

Rachel took in a breath. She sat straighter, but didn’t speak for fear she’d break down again.

Sighing, Ida moved out into the cold and sat next to her. “You two have been an accident waiting to happen.”

Rachel sniffed. “I’ve made a terrible mess of things.”

“What happened?”

“Ben asked me to marry him.”

“And you said no?”

She nodded.

Ida’s eyes narrowed. “You love him.”

Rachel wiped another tear from her face. “With all my heart.”

“But…”

“I’m married.”

Ida blew out a breath. “I knew it.”

“How?”

Ida pinched the bridge of her nose. “I saw myself in you.”

Rachel swiped a tear away. “I don’t understand.”

“My first husband wasn’t a good man. He was a drinker and when he had too much, he hit me.”

“What did you do?”

“For a time, I took it. Time came when I couldn’t tolerate it anymore. So I left him. I reached the point where I didn’t care about the scandal and I would have divorced him if I’d had the money. I got a job in town working in this
very store. We lived separate lives for almost six years before he died. During that six-year stretch, I met my second husband. He owned the store. We were together for twenty happy years before I lost him.”

“Peter will not allow me to live without him.” Rachel told Ida about her marriage.

The old woman nodded, the lines in her face growing deeper.

“If I try to divorce Peter, he will find me. If he finds me, he will kill me.”

Ida tapped her foot. “Out here the laws of society have a tendency to blur. A man and woman who love each other…well, no one would ask too many questions if they decided to build a home together.”

“Ben wants marriage.”

“Ben loves you.”

“He’s so angry.”

“Give him time. Most men need to crawl off and sulk for a while. When their temper cools, they often see things differently.”

“I will never forget the look in his eyes.”

“Don’t let that look be the last memory you have of him, Rachel. Go back to the lighthouse and set things right.”

“Do you really think we can work this out?”

“I don’t know. But don’t you think you owe it
to Ben and yourself to try? Let this chance pass and you will regret it for the rest of your life.”

Rachel nodded. “You’re right.”

Ida patted her on the knee. “Come inside and get a good night’s sleep. You can head back to the cottage first thing.”

Rachel shook her head. “No, I must do this now.”

“It’s nearly one in the morning.”

She glanced toward the lighthouse beacon. It flashed bright and strong. Ben was up there alone. Hurting.

“I’m going now.”

Ida’s gaze softened with respect. “Well, get a move on, girl.”

Rachel hugged the older woman. “Thank you.”

She hurried down the street. She was in such a rush she didn’t notice the shadow on the other side of the street. Or the fact that it moved behind her.

Rachel reached the end of the boardwalk and started toward the path when she heard the snap of a twig behind her.

An odd sensation stopped her in her tracks. She felt as if evil had passed by her. She turned.

Peter stood on the path. “Hello, Rachel. Miss me?”

B
en gripped the cold rail of the crow’s nest, staring out over the ocean. The icy wind stung his face. The lighthouse beacon flashed behind him.

Damn her! She’d had plenty of chances over the past six weeks to tell him about her husband.
Husband.
Dear God. She could have told him. Instead, she’d let him fall in love with her knowing she could never be his.

And damn him for ignoring the signs that had been in front of his face since the day he’d pulled her from the wreck. Hell, he’d challenged her about her widow’s weeds but she’d shouted that her husband had died.

The truth had been there all along and he’d looked the other way.

Restless, Ben turned from the ocean and went
inside the lighthouse. He glanced up the narrow stairway that led to the giant Frensel lenses in the light chamber. They flashed bright.

His watch didn’t end for another four hours. He should stay. He’d never ignored his duty, even in the vilest weather. Yet, tonight, he didn’t care about duty or honor. He’d played by the rules of honor and lost first to the Navy and now Rachel.

He started down the one hundred and fifty-six steps. His heart pounded in his chest. Conflicting emotions, so strong now, robbed the breath from him. He thought only to get outside and to see Rachel.

Bounding down the stairs, he dashed across the yard to the lightkeeper’s cottage. He burst through the back door, expecting to see her in the kitchen brewing a pot of tea or sitting at the table mending one of his shirts.

She wasn’t in the kitchen. He hurried through the house calling her name. He pushed open the door to his bedroom. Nothing. The sheets were still rumpled from their lovemaking, but she’d vanished.

Rachel was gone.

He crossed the room and touched the sheets. Just hours ago they’d lain between these sheets making love. Her scent still clung to them.

He remembered how she’d touched him last
night. How she’d whispered words of love in his ear. The fervor in her words hadn’t been a lie. Rachel did love him.

The image of Rachel’s bruised face slashed across his mind. The rage that had pumped so hot and fast gave way to a bone-crushing sadness. Only an animal would put that kind of a mark on a woman.

His shoulders sagging, he sat on the edge of the bed.

Small wonder she hadn’t trusted him. He fisted a handful of bedsheet in his hand as he pictured her living with a man like that, the spirit and fire draining out of her day by day.

God help her, she’d had the courage to run. She’d survived the shipwreck and had forged a new life here in a village so foreign to her old life. Even when the others hadn’t wanted her, she’d stayed. Long shadows cut across the stairway.

And he’d sent her away.

Memories of her haunted him. He remembered the days he’d watched her hanging sheets on the lines as the wind whipped her skirts around her ankles. The night she’d danced at the wedding reception, laughing as she moved expertly through the dances. And most vivid, the look of surprised pleasure when she’d climaxed last night.

He couldn’t imagine himself loving another woman as he did Rachel.

Save for the clock ticking in the hallway and the wind blowing outside, a deadly quite shrouded the house.

He pictured the rest of his life without Rachel—alone, manning the light, living among the villagers as they married and moved on with their lives.

An unbearable sadness settled on his shoulders.

Rachel had become a part of him—the half that made him whole.

Ben had to find her.

And prayed she would forgive him.

Rachel’s heart slammed against her ribs. Peter! “How did you find me?”

He wrapped his long, smooth hands around her neck and pulled her back against his chest. His lips brushed her ear. “Forever and always.”

“The ring. The captain.”

He nipped her ear with his teeth. “He’s a hearty sea captain, who knows how to survive. Though when I alert my men in Washington, he will find himself at the bottom of the Potomac River now.”

“You’re going to kill him.”

“You know how I hate untidiness. Besides, he was a greedy sort. And I know his kind. He’d have
been back for more money one day, threatening to expose your flight and embarrass me.”

He spun her around and grabbed her hand. He smoothed his soft hand over hers. “Calluses? You’ve debased yourself in too many ways, my dear.”

She snatched her hand back. “I’ve learned that I can work and take care of myself.”

“You’ve grown too bold.”

“I’ve found myself.”

“You’ve grown a spine since we last saw each other. But don’t worry, by the time I am done with you, you will be quite biddable.”

“Never again.”

As if she hadn’t spoken, he pulled the ring from his pocket. He shoved the ring on her finger, tearing and scratching her flesh. He wrapped his hand around hers and squeezed hard. “Until death us do part, Rachel.”

Her finger burned. The stones cut into her flesh. “I hate you. I’d rather die than return to Washington with you.”

The lighthouse beacon flashed on the path.

Peter laughed. “Funny you should say that. I hadn’t considered taking you back to Washington.”

Cold fear shot through her body. “What have you got planned?”

An unholy pleasure gleamed in his stark blue
eyes. She could feel his arousal pressing against her. “You’re nothing like the woman who left me. Coarse, unrefined, a tramp. And your beautiful hair.” He ran his hand over the shorter tresses. Shivers snaked down her spine. “You shouldn’t have cut it.” He wrenched her arm behind her back, making her wince. “No, you aren’t going back to Washington with me. I’ve got more creative ideas about what to do with you.”

She forced herself to lift her chin. She’d never beg. “What are you going to do, Peter?”

“First, we are going to find a nice, quiet and very secluded spot. Then I’m going to teach you a lesson about disobedience.” He glanced around the barren countryside. “I can see why you chose this place to hide. It’s so wonderfully secluded. We shouldn’t have any trouble finding privacy. Now, be a good girl and come along with me. I promise to make your death quick.”

She jerked back, surprising him enough that she freed one hand. “I won’t make this easy for you.”

Anger warmed her blood. How dare he come back into her life and threaten her? In their marriage, she’d given in to his brutality. But no more. She’d die fighting.

Peter pulled a rope from his coat pocket. “I’d hoped you’d say that.”

He yanked her forward with surprising strength. He tied the rope around her first wrist. The rope cut into her skin.

Survival instincts took over. If he got the rope around her wrists, she’d be helpless. And by daybreak she’d be dead.

Rachel raised her booted foot and drove her heel into his shin. The unexpected pain made him fumble with the rope. Peter cursed. He reached for her hair, but underestimated the length. She skirted forward out of his reach.

“Bitch!” he shouted. “You are going to pay for that very dearly.”

She had no doubt death at his hands would be slow and painful. She stumbled forward and started to run. He snatched at her skirts. Fabric ripped. She screamed and yanked free.

The beacon flashed.

Rachel glanced up toward the lighthouse. Ben. She had to find him. She started to run down the path.

Peter growled his frustration and started after her. His feet pounded the dirt path.

She’d traveled the path hundreds of times in the past few weeks and she’d come to learn every root and every hole. Even with little moonlight she dodged the protruding roots and sandy holes.

Peter was faster, but he didn’t know the path. He stripped, hitting the ground hard.

“Rachel,” he screeched.

The pure evil in his voice rattled her. She stumbled but didn’t fall. She kept running. Her side ached and her legs cramped, but she kept moving.

Rachel reached the base of the lighthouse and ran up the five steps to the open door. She didn’t question why the door that Ben always kept closed was open. She ran inside and slammed the door shut. She fumbled with the bolt but her trembling hands couldn’t budge it. Outside, she heard Peter running toward her, calling her name.

“Ben!” she shouted as she tried to move the latch.

No answer.

“Ben, please! Help me.”

Silence.

Abandoning the door, she ran past the oil reserve tanks to the base of the winding staircase. She glanced up the spiral, praying Ben waited at the top. She screamed his name again. Where are you? She started to climb.

Ben had just reached the back porch of the cottage when he heard a man scream Rachel’s name. In the moonlight he saw the shadowy fig
ure reach the lighthouse door. The figure hesitated and looked back at Ben before he burst through the door.

Rachel’s muffled scream echoed from the tower before the door slammed shut.

Panic exploded in his chest.

Ben ran to the lighthouse. He vaulted up the brick steps of the base two at a time and reached for the door. It was locked.

Rachel’s head swam by the time she reached the top of the lighthouse. Her side ached and sweat ran down her back. She glanced down the spiral staircase and saw Peter. He’d found a lantern and lit it. He’d climbed halfway up the stairs.

In that instant he stopped and glanced up at her. Lantern light glowed off his pale features contorted with rage and excitement. He enjoyed this. “You are trapped now.

“The lightkeeper isn’t up there. I saw him running across the lawn. He looked quite worried.” He started to climb the stairs. This time he didn’t hurry. “Looks like it’s just you and me, Rachel,” he said.

Outside, she heard Ben pounding on the door, shouting her name.

Tears welled in Rachel’s eyes. She pressed the
heel of her hand into her eyes.
Don’t panic. Don’t panic.

She glanced around the oval room that housed the oil tanks that powered the lenses. She needed a weapon. There was nothing except a heavy metal bucket Ben used to haul supplies up the stairs. She grabbed the bucket and ran toward the smaller staircase leading to the room that housed the tall lights. Sucking in a breath, she forced her muscles to work. She climbed the last ten steps to the light chamber.

The bright light flashed.

“Rachel!” Peter’s voice sounded close. He’d reached the chamber below.

Taking her bucket, she went outside to the crow’s nest. The wind blew hard. She glanced over the low railing and saw Ben below. He hammered the door with an anvil.

Rachel’s hands were slick with sweat and she backed away from the door that led from the light chamber.

Peter’s fine leather shoes echoed in the chamber. She took in a breath and forced herself to stop. Her heart pounded in her chest, mingling with the sound of Ben’s hammer.

Peter moved closer. “Killing you is going to be a sweat pleasure.”

From inside the lighthouse, a loud crash sounded as the door below banged open and slammed against the wall.

Ben.

Peter chuckled. “Seems your hero is almost here. You know what? I think I’m going to share the pleasure of your death with your lover. I’ll make him watch as I bleed the life from your body. Then I’m going to kill him.”

Anger gave Rachel courage. Peter was a monster. And he had to be stopped here and now before he hurt anyone she cared about. She lifted the bucket over her head.

Peter stepped out onto the crow’s nest.

Rachel swung the bucket and hit him in the head as hard as she could. He stumbled toward the railing, clutching the bleeding side of his head. She ran toward him and pushed him.

His arms flayed as he tried to catch himself. His gaze locked briefly on hers. And then he fell two hundred feet to the ground below.

Ben heard a man’s scream as he dashed up the last few steps to the crow’s nest. He peered over the edge of the railing. Below lay the man he’d seen chasing Rachel. He lay on his back, his limbs and neck twisted. He was dead.

He found Rachel squatting, her back against the lighthouse. Her eyes were squeezed tight and her arms wrapped around her chest. Tears streaked her face.

He went to her and touched her shoulder. Her eyes flew open as she raised her fists. She started to strike out blindly. He absorbed her first blows before he captured her wrists. “Rachel, it’s Ben.”

She continued to struggle. “I won’t die. I won’t let you kill me.”

Ben wrapped his arms around her and held her tight against his chest. “Rachel, it’s Ben. Everything is going to be all right.”

A shudder passed through her body. Her muscles relaxed. “Ben?”

“Yes, sweetheart, it’s me.”

“Where is Peter?” She strained against him. “I saw him fall.”

He loosened his hold “He went over the side. He’s dead. You don’t want to look.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

She pulled away from him and staggered to her feet. “I need to see. I need to know that he is truly dead.”

“Rachel don’t.”

She didn’t hear him. “I have to go.”

He followed her down the long twisting staircase. He stayed right behind her, ready to catch her if she fell. But her steps were quick and deliberate as she hurried down the last steps, across the tiled floor and out the door.

He trailed behind her as she went around the side to Peter’s body. She stared at it for several long minutes, as if she couldn’t believe it. Then she yanked off her ring and tossed it on Peter’s body.

Ben came behind her. He laid his hands on her shoulders. She flinched and pulled away. He felt so helpless. “It’s over, Rachel. He is gone. You are free.”

Rachel faced Ben. Her face looked so pale in the moonlight. “Free. I never believed I’d ever be free.”

“Let me take you home,” he said, holding out his hand to her.

She stood as inflexible as a statue. “I don’t have a home,” she said. “You told me to leave.”

Her quietly spoken words hit him squarely in the chest. He wanted to hold her. But her body was so rigid he feared she’d break if he tried to touch her.

“I was upset,” he said. “Add to that wounded pride and arrogance, and you’ve got a fool. I’m sorry.”